


Who I'm Meant to Be

by KRMalana



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Childhood Trauma, Demisexuality, F/F, Found Family, Haggar's A+ druiding, Half-Galra, Half-Human, Intersex, M/M, Other, Zarkon's A+ Parenting, childhood imprisonment, scavenger/scrapper, starship engineering
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-06-30 01:27:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15741324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KRMalana/pseuds/KRMalana
Summary: We bloom where we are planted.  We are where we are meant to be.  The words of Rua's mother are always with him.  It's all he has left of her, after their capture by the Galra.  Decaphoebs, scrapping and scavenging facilities, until they considered him an engineering asset.  The prison warden wants his ships; assuming they can be taken by force.There is a prison Prince Lotor suddenly finds under his control.  A problem unrecognized and tossed aside by others, including his father.  But with an old cruiser falling apart around him, his interest is piqued when he hears of an engineering prisoner skill in starship maintenance and repair.  Until he sees the ship that the prisoner is designing.  Until the wild mane of red curls.  Until the vivid blue eyes that never waver.So many things can change when you have someone to believe in you.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> EDIT (12/22/18): Running through this again, fixed a few spelling/grammar errors. And oh yeah, with the atrocity that was season 8, this is now a fix-it and self-therapy fic. 
> 
> I'm not sure if I'm more nervous writing something for this fandom, or the fact I'm finally getting Rua and this story written out. It's been floating around in my head ever since I first saw Lotor. And there's quite a lack of Lotor/OMC fics anyway. Story summary and tags will be updated as needed.
> 
> This fic is serving as a sort of entire background story. How Rua was discovered by Lotor and came to be one of generals. Before moving on to a second story that covers the events shown in canon. Well, until a certain point anyway.

_“Deal with it.”_

Three simple words.  Forceful.  Unfeeling.  Three simple words so often repeated throughout Prince Lotor’s life.  Directed at him by his own father.  Or directed through others when he wouldn’t speak to his own son.    

This time it had been a command.  Not directly delivered by Emperor Zarkon, as usual, but passed down through several commanders until it reached the exiled prince.  There was a prison on one of the borders of the area Lotor oversaw that needed attention. 

So.  Something was happening at the prison that warranted addressing rather than continuing to let it slide.  Or, perhaps, a trap.  The prison wasn’t technically in anyone’s territory.  But some needed very little provocation to turn against him, claiming he was breaking his terms of exile or invading their territory. 

Research, then, to determine if there was any benefit to taking the risk. 

There appeared to be far too many reports linked to the prison to allow it to operate on its own for much longer.  Incidents between inmates.  Incidents between inmates and sentries or guards.  Some violent enough to warrant medical attention and isolation. A smattering of escape attempts, though none of those had been successful.  And what could only be briberies judging by inexplicable releases, changes in sentencing, or the sudden appearance of privileges. 

So it was strange, then, that none of these reports had been of focus when he had contacted the prison’s warden prior to his arrival.  Much of her response was to be expected.  Leery at the name of the empire’s prince and bulking at the implications she couldn’t handle things on her own.  Yet the resignation of one forced to acknowledge that outside assistance was required to set things back on track.  That was when she had focused on a single inmate when describing issues at the prison, to the point that she failed to describe any other examples.

_“He got pulled from another facility as an engineering asset.  The prototype ships that he builds...  I am certain if taken they could only bring glory to the empire.  But he is extremely insubordinate.  We take his designs and no one else can replicate it, let alone get it to function.  So we took his prototypes, ones I have seen myself work during his test flights.  But when our pilots try to fly them they always fail, whether its failure to fly or severely malfunction shortly after take-off.  I know he’s sabotaging it.”_

_“You’ve seen him do it?”_

_“…No, but I know.  We’ll find something eventually.  Punishment appears to have no effect and force only produces the same results.”_

_“Send over his identification and arrange for a live demonstration.  Then an installation or construction between the inmate and Galra engineers.  I’ll judge then if my attention on the matter is warranted.”_

The warden was not keen on the answer.  In fact, in the moments before the video feed had cut, she seemed to regret informing him on the matter in the first place.  Most likely she had meant to one day present the designs towards her own glory and keep their source a secret.  Not an uncommon tactic from those in charge of outside scientific and engineering assets. 

And one he would take advantage of.

He opened communication to the bridge.  “Acxa, status report and approximate arrival time.”

The video and audio flickered for a moment, stabilizing only after Ezor thumped her fist against a nearby panel a few times.  _“Steady, as much as it can be.  At this rate we’ll be at the prison in one or two vargas.  We’ll most likely lose at least one sentry by then but they’re managing to keep the compressors in place.”_

Acxa switched the feed to the camera set up in the engine room to keep an eye the machinery.  Sentries were keeping the compressors in line with the rest of the engines by force.  A few were already beginning to show signs of strain on the metal exteriors, and one was beginning to melt at the extreme temperatures.  The component had failed the last time they tried to use the hyper-drive and Lotor’s attempt at a temporary fix had already worn out on the way here. 

“Zethrid?  Do you need to swap out?”  The video switched to the air-lock between the cruiser’s hanger and the outer hull.  The sealing mechanism on the door forming the air-lock had also malfunctioned, but they were managing to keep it sealed by brute force of twisting metal around the handles.  Zethrid, dressed fully in her jumpsuit and helmet, had been stationed nearby to force everything back in place should it try to separate.

 _“You kidding?”_   Her voice was distant and muffled, the audio flickering again.  _“It’s a good workout—I could do this for at least a quintant.”_

Lotor couldn’t help a little smirk before he reassured her, “It’ll only be for another varga or two.”  He dropped the communication to the bridge, then switched back to his search entry. 

Two files moved onto the screen as he ran through the collection of databases with the inmate’s identification.  The first file contained all the information related to the subject, its large size hinting to an extensive history.  The second file was smaller but sat above the first, linked further by a golden line.  An indication of a direct connection with the first file, but one on an entirely different and female subject.  A slight peculiarity considering the warden had only mentioned the one inmate. 

He set the records to pull from visuals and compare them side by side.

His first impression on the pictures alone was the two subjects were related or came from a species that shared a high degree of physical similarities between individuals.  Hair a thick mass of waves and curls, shocking red in color, although the shade of the inmate’s hair was darker than the female’s.  They seemed to lack body hair entirely, or perhaps it was too fine to show up clearly in images.  Paler skin, covered with small and distinct spots that seem to lack any pattern or consistency in size.  Rounded ears set roughly in the same line as their eyes.  Her eyes were green, bright from the outrage of a picture taken shortly after capture.  His were blue, distinct in shade, and distant, but always straight into the camera as his inmate photo was updated periodically. 

One might mistake them for Altaen if it wasn’t for the absence of pointed ears and acute lack of facial markings under the corner of the eyes.  Curious.  Perhaps half Altaen or a species closely related to them?  Either subject would have immediately been brought to Zarkon’s attention if that were the case.  Unlikely then, but still a possibility.  He switched the files to move into the genetic databanks meticulously kept by Galra archivists. 

The female was a pure member of her species and, his suspicions confirmed, the only sample they had in the entirety of their databases.  Strange.  She had been captured in an area that had been under Galra exploration at the time.  And one that was now firmly under their control.  That should have led to an influx of her species appearing in the genetic bank.  Yet she still remained the single pure sample they had on file.  The only reasonable explanation left was she had been traveling through the area and unfortunate enough to have been spotted. 

His subject of interest was indeed related to the female.  Sharing half of her individual genetic information and in a manner passed from parent to child.  So, their shared physical characteristics was now more likely due to the familial relation and less likely the average visual appearance of their species.  As for the species identification, she contributed only half to the subject.  That wasn’t a surprise, considered they hadn’t been listed as a pure genetic sample.  He had expected the other half to be another species under their control.  Perhaps even half Galran, if the genes of this unidentified species dominated over Galran physical traits. 

_50% Unidentified Species (1 Reference) 50% Reference Unavailable_

Lotor’s eyes narrowed at the assignment.  The unidentified species connected back to the mother, of course, but _reference unavailable_ was not an assignment he had ever seen.  A second unidentified species would have been listed and noted as due to the lack of a genetic reference point.  He tapped on the assignment, expecting an explanation or notation to appear on the screen. 

Only to have a blank screen load in.  An interruption in the signal?  No, according to the signal indicator in the corner of the screen.  And every time he attempted to reload the information the blank screen appeared again.  The reference shouldn’t have been deleted or its access blocked without some type of record… 

It is a suspicion he cannot focus on at the moment, given his current needs and schedule.  But it is secreted away, tucked away, information held for another time.  He starts back at the beginning, with the mother. 

There wasn’t an accurate age in her file, though at her appearance he’d guess a few dozen decaphoebs.  She had been found in a vessel in an interplanetary space, accompanied by her child.  There was only one visual record of the vessel and little record of it afterward.  Knowing the commander in charge of the area, Lotor wasn’t surprised if they had dismantled it for parts rather than studying its design.  It was white, accented with black and orange, with a thick main body and short immobile wings.  A primitive rocket system appeared to be its source of flight and seemed ill suited for deep space travel.  So, something designed perhaps for shorter distances or detachable from a larger vessel. 

The commander at least had done a rudimentary search of the nearby planets.  The species of the planets that contained intelligent life did not resemble the captured pair nor had technology close to that of the space vessel.  And the female had remained tight lipped, giving little information it seemed even under of interrogation. 

So she had been separated from her child. 

Lotor felt his stomach tighten on reflex.  It was a common enough practice, meant to force cooperation and compliance.  He understood the imperial reasoning on a functional level.  It did not mean he agreed with it.  Regardless, it had failed in her case.  Her records were only a few decaphoebs long, marked with increasing attacks on sentries and attempts of escape despite the increasingly harsher labor camps she was sent to.  He couldn’t help the smirk that curled his lips on the final entry.  She had blown out the walls of her containment area and flown off in the overseer’s private vessel, which explained why it was never reported up the chain.

The child’s record was more extensive, having spent at least nine decaphoebs in the labor force.  First in scavenging facilities, then shuffled around to various maintenance and repair operations, before finally landing in the prison.  Not as a member of the general population but as an engineering asset, and the only one listed as skilled in starship engineering and design. 

The prince allowed a smirk to pull at his lips.

~*~*~*~

The ship managed to land at the assigned platform, the compressors clanging to the floor as the sentries released them.  He left Ezor and Acxa to prioritize which repairs were needed, leaving Zethrid and Narti at his flanks as he entered the prison.  There was no formal greeting awaiting his arrival; there rarely ever was when he arrived at Galra institutions.  Only one silent attendant to lead them straight to the warden.

They passed over an inner main yard as the attendant led them over the walkways.  A place for prisoners to move if they were allowed out of their cells.  The space with packed with prisoners doing any number of activities.  Many were Galran, but Lotor instantly recognized that half-Galrans were also among their number.  The two groups keeping themselves apart by force or necessity. 

At the fringes of the yard were various members of other species.  Trying to find space or surfaces claim.  To exist unnoticed.  Heads down in concentration, bodies curled forward to protect their work.

The prison kept the scientific assets in the same yard?

His eyes narrowed as he again looked over the number of prisoners.  Given the number of levels as well as the cells he could see, there wasn’t enough space to house all of them.  Unless there were more cells on levels that went down into the surface, or in branching parts of the facility.  There must be, if the scientific assets were to have any place to get any kind of significant work done. 

And there would have to be a space for someone to be creating ships.  Lotor cast his eye over the yard again.  The shock of red curls that would give the inmate away was nowhere to be seen.

The office of the warden was luxurious, at least in the comparison with what Lotor could already see of the rest of the facility.  It was often the case with higher up Galran with more secure or stationary positions.  Still he could not disregard the row of blasters waiting at the ready or the shelf of punishing implements. She ran the prison how she saw fit, regardless of regulations or the needs of the population she oversaw.

“… Sir. You’re here.”  She hesitated as she addressed him.  Many like her never knew how.  On one hand he was exiled, a disgraced stain in his father’s eyes.  On the other he was still the prince of the empire, allowed to live and serve as the emperor permitted.  Hostility or cozying up were the most frequent responses.  “There will be much to go over.  Perhaps, a tour of the facility, first?”

She wanted to direct his attention, that much was painfully clear.  Most likely it was away from the engineering prisoner and the ships.  Though he could not deny there had to be other secrets or facts she’d rather keep hidden. 

So, then.  Knock her off her stance.  Make her wary in her own territory.  “Did you do as I requested?”

The warden paled before she controlled her expression.  “O-of course.  Though with such sort notice it won’t be much of a demonstration—”

“Take us to the hanger then.”

At his words the warden finally seemed to notice his companions.  She balked at Zethrid’s size and outright blanched at Narti’s face.  Purposely focusing on only him as she led him through the prison.  As much as Lotor detested using his generals in such a manner he could not the deny the technique yielded results.  And it was an arrangement everyone had agreed to long ago in dealing with outside entities. 

He saw no more cells in the direction they were taken, although he did spot what appeared to be the private quarters of the guards that served in the prison.  Outright premium spaces claimed by individuals, or even single occupants of multiple rooms.  She finally arrived at a door and punching in her identification, allowing access to a private hanger and runway. 

It was here that he finally saw ships and materials that an engineer might use.  Most were of the current line of Galra fighters.  Some in the midst of minor repairs, while a few others seemed to be in various stages of construction or deconstruction.  Armed sentries stood at various storage doors, most likely to keep an eye on weaponry or vital components for the ships.  The warden whistled sharply at a pair and flicked her hand.  They unlocked one of the small doors and disappeared inside, momentarily emerging with the prisoner of interest between them. 

The inmate was smaller in stature than Lotor imagined, especially when flanked by Galra sentries.  While he was dressed in the standard black and grey prison uniform, both his hands and his feet were bare.  Curious.  Almost as much as his hair, which in profile proved even thicker than his pictures indicated, like an untamable mane.  The warden leaned down, sharp teeth bared right in his face.  “Enjoy isolation?”  The prisoner kept silent.  And kept his gaze right against hers. 

Lotor’s attention moved to a ship that was towed from another part of the hanger as the warden barked her instructions at the inmate.  The design immediately caught his eye.  A fighter designed for a single pilot.  Sleek, rounded edges in comparison to the sharp angles in the current Galra fighters.  The main body was arranged in a front-to-back orientation, with the engines set on the wings rather than in the rear of the main body.  The connection between the body and the wings did not appear to be in a fixed position either, though for what purpose he could only guess. 

The feeling of a gaze crept over his skin, an instinct forged over centuries.  He turned to find the inmate watching him, looking past the warden and directly at him.  Holding each other’s gaze. Realization taking hold as the look moved from the visitor to warden and finally to his ship.

The warden finally released the inmate, shoving them towards the ship before stalking over towards Lotor.  The inmate silently regained his balance, attention already on the vessel he had built.  He did not immediately climb into the cockpit but instead ran his hands over the metal.  Carefully checking the wings and connections, crouching to check the underbelly.  Some personalized pre-flight check for his vessel, or a reassurance the ship had not been tampered with?  He finally tapped the side of the main body and the seams of a door appeared, the metal folding back for him to enter. 

“Where’s his flight gear?”  Zethrid demanded as they watched the inmate enter the ship with only his prison issued clothing.  Lotor wondered the same.  No flight suit or helmet.  Not even shoes or boots to cover his bare feet.

“Why would I waste flight materials on a prisoner?”  The warden replied, offended that she would even ask.  “And a precaution in case he somehow made it past the barrier.  No one can blame me if he can’t survive long enough to escape.”

The sleek ship hummed to life, immediately beginning to hover a few inches off the ground.  A soft blue light emitted from the cockpit, traveling through previously unseen channels on the metal of the ship to the engines.  It was only for a moment, nearly missed between one blink and the next, but he could have sworn the channels resembled a decorative or floral design. 

 _“Is that an alternative form of quintessence?”_   Narti wondered as a sentry pilot started the Galra fighter. 

Lotor shook his head as he replied softly, “I’m not sure.  Its difficult to tell, but possibly not if there’s questions about it.”

The test was a course marked on the outskirts of the prison, set to compare the ships’ speed and maneuverability.  The prototype reached standard flight speed in markedly less time than the Galra fighter.  The different stages of acceleration were smooth as well, barely noticeable from the ground.  The inmate followed the course as laid out, weaving in and out of marked obstacles, matching the Galra fighter point for point.  No.  Not matching, Lotor realized.  Held back, purposely, to appear to match the fighter.    

A turn in the course was approaching, one set to turn the fighters around and head straight back to the dock.  The Galra fighter began the steep bank to be able to make the turn, but the prototype kept going.  A curse ripped from the warden, assuming the inmate was making for the prison barrier and a chance of escape.  Just as she made to give the command to pursue or shoot it down the ship suddenly… slid into the turn.  The engines rapidly rotated on an axis, capable of a full 360 degrees of movement.  They also moved independent of each other.  The two designs combined together allowed for a rapid change of course that required very little room.  The exchange might be felt by the pilot by the rapidly changes in force, but if the inmate had made the design in the first place?  He would not be surprised if something was built into the cockpit to counteract the change for a pilot’s comfort. 

This put the prototype ship measures ahead of the Galra fighter, and the inmate knew it.  Pulling the ship into maneuvers with ease, rolling the ship in either direction, rapidly recovering with quick bursts from the engines.  He then pushed it into a loop, purposely drawn out, that allowed the Galra fighter to move beneath before dropping the prototype right behind it.  A burst of acceleration to regain the lead then another quick rotation of the engines that kept the protype moving forward but the main body of the ship pointing backwards towards the fighter.

Two simple maneuvers that proved the Galra fighter would be dead if the prototype were equipped with weapons. 

The inmate had landed and exited the prototype ship even before the Galra fighter landed.  He was smiling to himself, breathless, as he turned to do another inspection of his creation.  The sheer excitement of the flight made his eyes shine even at this distance.  He had climbed up to the top of the hull, twisting into different hand and footholds in ease to reach it, pulling up another seamless panel to make an adjustment.  His mouth moved as he worked, perhaps speaking softly to himself.

The excitement died as the warden stepped forward to verbally force him off the ship.  She caught his upper arm as he slid off, bustling him away before he could truly get his footing.  He had to quicken his stride to keep up with her.

The now dull eyes fixed on a distant point.  Lotor’s stomached tensed, as he could not allow his body to do so.  He knew the look.

“What are you doing now?”  Lotor approached the warden as he saw more people joining them.  Some directed sentries as a second prototype ship identical to the first was towed into place.  Others brought over two large boxes containing materials and half-built components.  The warden finally released the prisoner at one of the boxes, turning to the Galran engineers.

“Have you examined the ship?”

“Yes,” one answered, “it should fly, given the component is installed.  We can’t find anything wrong with it or the materials.”

“Unlikely,” the warden turned her darkened eyes on the prisoner.  “You.  Build it.  And know we’re all watching you.”

“You had him build a second ship?”  Lotor asked as the warden waved them forward to observe.

“To prove he could replicate the design and give us something to test.  Should have just taken the first when it was almost done.  Whichever one he flies; the opposite fails when we try it.  We follow his designs, they fail.  We follow his exact instructions, it still fails.” 

The entire time the prisoner’s ear was turned to their conversation.  Arms crossed over his chest as he waited for the Galra engineers to finish pulling out all the materials.  But his gaze was on the second ship.  The pleasure was gone, the excitement vanished, body threatening to coil in on itself.  As if the duplicate ship were a dull imitation created by another hand.  It might as well have been given what it represented. 

Duplicate materials were laid out in front of both parties, the prisoner on one side and three Galran engineers on the other.  The inmate began to demonstrate how the device was put together, selecting each material carefully before slotting it into place.  He barely looked at his own construction and instead watched the Galra engineers.  Hands putting everything together with a creator’s ease.  He explained everything verbally as well.  Slow and easy instructions.  Some might mistake it as mocking, if their attention wasn’t so distracted as doing everything precisely as he said. 

It begged Lotor to watch closely. 

Once it was complete, the Galra engineers appeared to have created an identical component as the inmate and in the same exact manner.  The hard line of the warden’s mouth twisted in displeasure as the component was installed in the second prototype and a sentry set to pilot it.  She had not noticed, and Lotor could see why none of them ever did.

“It’s barely going to get airborne,” Lotor whispered aloud, just enough for his generals to hear.

“What?”  Zethrid turned to him for a moment.  “You sure?”  Destroying things was more her thing, but it had sure looked like they had done everything the same.  “They exactly followed his instructions and demonstration.”

“And that is their downfall.”

As he predicted, the duplicate prototype ship barely made it off the ground.  As it reached a certain speed down the runway, the sentry followed its programing and pulled back as if taking off from a cruiser.  The duplicate ship immediately lost power, arcs of electricity bursting over the hull.  The ship slammed and skidded down the runway before finally coming to a stop.  The engineers immediately took off after it as the warden rounded on the inmate.

“You!”  The warden seethed, teeth clenched in anger and embarrassment.  Her fist closed on the prisoner’s suit at his throat and yanked him off his feet.  He kept his arms limply at his side.  Only moving them to shift his weight as she violently shook him.  “You did this!”

“I gave my demonstration and instructed them, just as you told me to do.”  The inmate answered.  His tone was soft now, purposely demure.  “They might have installed it improperly.”

“Or you sabotaged it, just like the other times!”  She lifted him higher, as if to throw him.  It was then that Narti stepped forward, placing an arm between the two of them.  The simple movement was enough to get the warden to release the prisoner, reeling back so the general could not touch her.  The prisoner appeared to keep his head down, rubbing gently at his throat, but watched the newcomer through his bangs. 

Lotor stepped past the warden, nodding once as he went.  “I believe I would like to take a look at it myself.”  The warden gapped at him in disbelief, but he did not wait for her reply. 

The engineers were dragging the sentry out of the cockpit by the time he caught up.  It was no more than empty metal now, its inner mechanisms completely fried in the electrical discharge.  Despite their protests he moved past them and climbed into the ship.

In the privacy of the cockpit a smile crept over his face.  Excitement coursing through him as he looked over the inner workings.  There was no damage to the inside or outside of the ship despite the discharge and resulting crash.  He could see that a fair number of mechanisms were arranged in a more logical manner.  And the viewing window was wide and unobstructed as possible, clearly built for an organic pilot rather than a mechanical one.  There were things as well that he could only guess at, mechanisms he would have to be instructed in or study at length to ascertain their purpose. 

As he settled into the pilot seat a feeling of displacement washed over him.  He glanced around, finding no leaks or gas in the space that might affect sight or mind.  Everything was in reach, in an order that a sentry would recognize.  He turned his attention to the seat.  It was comfortable enough and fit his frame; the inmate having clearly adapted the cockpit and seat to accommodate the greater height of his Galra captors.  The base of the seat was immobile and almost seemed welded into place. 

As if the cockpit was not designed around the seat, or to even include it.  “Interesting…”

Lotor turned his attention to the flight panel.  He knew the programming of the sentries, the steps they were designed to take in Galra fighters while taking off.  He found the first switch.  Designed to start the process that would convert the energy in the engines.  In every Galra ship designed, and thus programmed into every sentry, the switch was to be pressed upwards. A deliberate decision so the sentries could be instantly placed in any number of ships without reprogramming.  Lotor did the same and heard the low thrum of the engines warming up.  The pattern of the thrum was the exact opposite of what it should be.  The diagnostic programming of the sentries was not designed to pick up on the noise; it would only recognize that the system was on after flipping the switch.

He pressed the switch off and allowed the engines to settle before pressing the switch downwards.  The engines once again activated and this time with their usual noise.  Such a simple change to slip under everyone’s nose.  One that most would not even think to look for. 

Next, he removed the component from its housing to the side of the panel.  The access of the duplicate prototype was remarkable as well.  Purposely designed it seemed that most if not all the individual components could be accessed without the need for completely grounding the ship or removing major sections to gain access.  It took a moment to orientate himself with the design and begin to work backwards, the inmate’s instructions running through his mind.  It took him a while to find it and even he missed it the first time despite his deliberate search.

One of the channels designed to move charges into the rest of the system was wrong.  In fact, it was completely backwards, causing the charge to build up in the component until there was no choice but to discharge into whatever path was easier.  He hadn’t even recognized the issue until he had run his hand over it and felt it ran in the wrong direction.  An optical illusion that the mind wouldn’t recognize on sight alone. 

He had just switched the channel into the proper position and reassembled the component when he felt something step into the cockpit.  He turned to find the prisoner in the doorway, watching him.  “Do you want me to take a look?”

The words were calm and collected, with not a hint of fear.  Offering help.  Nothing to raise suspicion.  Except that it did.  “Do you think you need to?”

The prisoner offered a tiny smile and took a step forward.  He braced his right arm on a lower portion of the ceiling and leaned in, despite the fact he did not need to duck.  “Well, it crashed, so they must have done something wrong.” 

One does not live thousands of years, many under the deep-seated need to survive, without developing the ability to pick up on the slightest cues.  As he leans forward and keeps his gaze, his body is subtly twisted to keep the right side forward.  One might make the mistake it as a defensive position, so he could easily turn and bolt out of the cockpit.  If not for the fact that the lower portion of his left arm is blocked from Lotor’s view.  And he only knows this from the minute shifts in the curve of the prisoner’s left shoulder, working at a panel behind him. 

 “Perhaps, but I think I can manage.  I must simply fly it for myself, its such a magnificent design.” Lotor returns the smile.  He can see Narti as well as Zethrid’s shadow at the entrance into the ship, keeping an eye on the prisoner and nods in their direction. 

The prisoner tilts his head for a moment.  Blinking in surprise at the words.  Interest, for a moment, before he remembers the situation.  “If you wish…”  He exits the duplicate prototype, flanked between the two generals until they are out of range, even smaller now in comparison to Zethrid.  His neck is stiff, not from fear, but from purposely keeping himself from glancing over his shoulder. 

The duplicate prototype hums to life once again and begins to hover.  He keeps his senses sharp.  On the panel before him.  On the sounds around him.  On the feeling of the ship through his body that only develops through time as a pilot.  The ease into flight speed is exhilarating.  How fast could it go?  What were the limits of maneuverability in flight? 

Lotor is only moments into a full flight when he feels it.  The forward thrust of the ship is fluctuating.  Coming in quick bursts instead of a continuous motion.  Everything seems to be in order and it appears to be no lack of fuel.  But he knows that the ship will give out if he continues for much longer.  So, he allows himself one luxury as he works the controls, trying to replicate the movement of the independent engines and quick turn.  He overshoots, spinning the ship around twice before he completes it, and turns the ship back to the landing just in time. 

He throws back his head, and laughs.

It’s a duplicate of the prototype, the one that is handed over or taken by whomever wants to fly it.  That automatically meant it was different.  Built so that no one could deconstruct it and learn all of its secrets.  Multiple fail-safes would have built in, layers on layers, each as subtle as it could be.  Manageable when one or two is corrected, lulling those who were lucky enough to notice into security, unaware of the rest would still cascade into failure.  He wouldn’t be surprised if the original prototype was the same. 

“I will need one of your rooms,” Lotor announces as he exits.  By now the warden as joined the group, itching to get at the prisoner.  It is now Zethrid that keeps her away, merely glaring and crossing her arms.  “I wish to question him.”

The warden begrudgingly leads the way, Lotor and rest following behind.  He feels the nonexistent tap in his mind, Narti’s way of alerting her communication rather than simply beginning to speak.  ‘ _He purposely entered to fix a flaw.  I sensed no malicious nature.  It was the opposite:  he didn’t want to harm._ ’

‘ _I thought as much_ ,’ Lotor thanked her nonetheless. ‘ _Keep an eye on the warden.  She will not be pleased that I question him alone_.’

~*~*~

The warden was furious, as he predicted.  Zethrid had to physically block the way until the door slid shut, leaving only Lotor and the prisoner in the room.  It was simple, only a table and two chairs, as Lotor requested.  He left the door unlocked but killed any video and audio broadcast that might be active in the room.  The prisoner took up the far chair, whether it be unconscious habit or learned behavior.  Lotor takes up the opposing chair only after he moves it, so he is not directly blocking the door. 

Silence reigns at first.  Each judging the other.  A contest of attrition until one speaks.

He has the designs of the prototype the warden handed over to him.  Even he can see that something has either been held back by the warden, or the designs to not add up to an entire ship.  And certainly not to the one he witnessed earlier.  Each time he raises his eyes back to the prisoner he finds his gaze returned. 

Lotor finally realized why his attention kept drawing back to the prisoner’s gaze.  Twofold, even.  First in that the prisoner always looked directly at the face and eyes of whoever spoke.  Or whomever he knew was watching. Unafraid.  Not confrontational but seeking.  And secondly in the color.  The blue was rich.  Vibrant, the same color the designs were drawn in.  With a ring of green around the black pupil visible only at close range.

“I would like to have your name before we begin.”

The young man studies the prince slowly, and Lotor allows it.  Watching the eyes take in his armor, his gloved hands.  His loose white hair and pointed ears.  Finally, back to his face, his eyes.  Searching for something.  Something that will tip his decision.  Before ultimately finding it and opening his mouth to speak: 

“Ruairí.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rua's mother is human, while Rua is only half. The other half is a species that is canon to Voltron (VLD) but has so far only showed up in one of the other medias besides the show.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Being honest may not get you a lot of friends, but it’ll always get you the right ones” John Lennon

The name must be from his native language.  An accent creeping in.  Tongue dancing over the syllables with ease. 

Now he understood why most had left the inmate’s proper name off of his record, either calling him by a Galran name or a bastardized attempt at sounding it out.  Lotor attempted to repeat the name and knew immediately he had failed.  The prisoner’s eyes grew wide in mirth, his mouth pulling into a grin before he forced it to stop.  Turning away a moment to hide a snort in loosely curled fingers. 

 **Holy shit.  That one is new**.  The prisoner spoke, again dancing over the words.  But they were completely unknown to Lotor. 

For the first time he looked from the prisoner’s face down to his neck.  Clothing of Galra manufacture, from armor to jumpsuits to prison uniforms, had translators either built into the collars or locations for easy attachment.  With an empire so vast, with so many numerous peoples and languages, it was easier.  At one time an asset for exploration.  Now a tool to conquer. 

The prisoner didn’t have one. 

“Try Ruari.  Or Rua.  Those seem to be the easiest for people of your tongue to pronounce.”  Rua spoke the Galran language without hesitation.  Yet still with the same accent as when he had said his name, only fainter.  The linguists in charge of the translators must have never had the opportunity to learn enough of his native language to update the program.  Or he had never been given the device in the first place and learned _galr_ over his course of his imprisonment. 

“Rua.”  It was easier, as the young man said.  “I am Prince Lotor.”

A brow raised incredulously as blue eyes once again searched him.  Lotor allowed it, leaning forward and lacing his fingers together.  Rua tilts his head and the lights in the room finally provide enough contrast against something alongside his right temple.  Curls flattening, pulling closer to his head, before springing back out.  Lotor can see now that locks have been woven together, laid and twisted over each other, until it has formed what appears to be an intricate knot.  A purposeful decoration that must take some time.  Some reason other than to keep his hair out of his eyes.   

Whatever Rua wanted to truly ask, he seemed to think better of it.  “What are you doing all the way out here?”

“I’ve been sent to investigate the issues at this prison.  And was hoping you might provide an inside…. perspective.”

Rua wanted to laugh at the statement.  Yet even in the same moment his curiosity was peaked.  What the stranger was saying, and even what he was doing, had some merit.  A Galran taking the time to speak to a prisoner.  And a non-Galran prisoner no less.  Although he could be playing at being sincere. 

Or, a preface to hide what he really wanted. 

Two could play at that.

“Or someone that can do your job for you.”

The prince smiles, matching the one pulling at Rua’s own lips.  Fangs smaller than a typical Galra peak out but are not bared.  Amusement rather than anger.  “I think of it more as a calculated investment.  Being sent here in the first place means there is fault in the administration.  So anything the warden or her people will have to say to me will be leading away from their own offenses.  And most prisoners I might decide to question, even at random, would likely focus on freedom or revenge.”

“One might recall that I am included in that latter category,” Rua gestures at his prison uniform.  “What makes you sure I will not do the same?”

“You purposely build fail-safes into your ships.  Things that will cause failures if anyone other than yourself were to fly them.  Several layers, in fact, accounting for both automated and living pilots. Then there are these,” Lotor spread his hands over the building plans to the prototype ships.  Finger tapping against one area until Rua risked a glance at the specific spot.  “You also purposely include flaws in the designs, in case anyone was to take them and try to build your ship on their own.  The more someone focuses on exact replication, the more they fail to recognize where it is faulty.”

The revelation does not cause alarm in the prisoner.  Nor does it cause fear.  In truth, Rua almost looks… excited.  Eyes shining in interest and acknowledgment.  He is not knocked off his stance, but remains steadfast, just as Lotor predicted.  And yet there is an amusement there that confirms that there is still remains something that Lotor has not seen regarding the ships.  “You are very forthcoming.  Or that was the bluntest threat I’ve received so far.”

“Because it is an observation, not a threat.  ‘Candor may not gain allies, save for those who shall remain.’ ”

Rua nods, finding no argument against that.  He leaned forward in his seat, bracing his weight with his crossed arms on the table. “If your eye is so keen, you’ve already made some observations.  I suppose I could judge if they are accurate or not.”

“The prison is easily overcrowded.  Too many people in one location with a limited amount of space and resources.  Especially when we could easily move people around.  Or simply build another prison or expand this one.”

“That’s easy enough to see.  How about the population of the prison?”

“Mixed, on multiple levels.  Foremost in the presence of both full Galran and half-Galran prisoners, which is going to cause contention solely based on that.  Then you add in the other species.  I can imagine then too the types of offenses people are present for, although I have not been given the time to examine the range.”

Rua settled back in the chair, waving a hand to the window that overlooked the main inner yard.  “That guess is just as good as knowing their exact crimes.  There are those that clearly need to be here; physical and mental aggressions that need to be kept away from society.  The problem is that you need to keep them away from everyone, but here they’re still allowed access to people.  Then in that same population you have people with offenses so minor most other societies would question why they are here at all.  But the longer they stay here, the more likely they are to turn into something far worse or become another victim.”

“Finally, people such as yourself.”

There it was.  “Precisely.  We might be prisoners, but in a different sense of the word.  Our only offense is our minds, and that offense has been deemed useful.  Yet…”

“Yet here you are mixed in with the rest of the population.  Workspaces and personal quarters exposed.  Targets.”  Lotor must have struck a chord.  The fingers Rua had tapping against the table as he spoke ceased, twitching a moment before he forced them to spread out.  A hard line to his mouth and a distant look.

  “Yes.” The inmate finally nodded.  “Assets are by far the most vulnerable.  We are allowed certain freedoms and resources in order to complete our work.  So members of the regular prison population deem it unfair and something to be… rectified.  It should have never happened in the first place, and the warden cares very little about it no matter how many times it is brought up.  She’d rather blame us for it.”

“Seems to be the entire reason I’m here in the first place.”  The prince muttered to himself as he opened his omni-tool and pulling up an input screen.  Whatever information he is looking through goes by too quickly for Rua to read backwards.  But he is surprised to find Lotor making notations or marking files for further inspection.  As if he really _was_ going to investigate the prison.

“Your history on file says that you also have experience in maintenance and repair, again specializing in starships.”  Lotor shifts the conversation once more.  The prototype was as much evidence as he needed for his skill in fighter ships.  For the moment, however, it is not his greatest need.  “Is that limited to small craft and fighter ships?”

“Pretty much any size of ship that the empire has,” Rua laughed soundlessly.  “After I was separated from my mother, I was sent to a couple of scrapping facilities at first.  Pulling useable parts out of ships.”

The prince’s head came up sharply at that.  “Pulling? Out of ships?”  The choice of words was particular.  Scrapping facilities were meant for decommissioning.  Breaking down ships to base parts and materials, sorting would could be reused and melting the rest. 

“Why do you think they always want kids?”  The response was incredulous.  “We’re small enough that we can slip in most places.  Why waste the time pulling a cruiser apart for one core mechanism the size of my fist when you can make a kid crawl down the fuel-line?”

“But why children?  Why not command or reprogram sentries?” 

“Kids can squeeze into the tight areas,” Rua raises his hands, slowly rotating them.  “Hands that can slip into spaces you’d otherwise have to waste time cutting to access.  Sentries in their fixed metal frames can’t compare to it.” 

The random pattern of spots that marked his face and neck were also on his hands.  Broken frequently by scars.  Small and large.  Fresh scars marked red or pink.  Others silvery white with age.  Constant reminders of where he’s been and what he’s been through. 

Rua lowers them back to the table, the thumb of one hand rubbing at a scar at the base of the other.  His voice softened in memory.  “When you spend years crawling inside any ship that comes through, you get used to how things are built.  Why you choose to continue or scrap a certain design.  Which parts are valuable, which face the most stress or repair.  Why something failed and what could have been done to prevent it.  After a while it becomes second nature, which I surmise is the reason why I was shifted to repair facilities after a while.”

The explanation was reasonable.  He had some of the same experience, though by choice rather than force.  “Yet you ended up here, considered an engineering asset.”

“Curiosity is one’s undoing” the smile is back for a moment.  “When you work so much breaking things down because they are no longer of use, or repair the same part that’s worn out due to its design a dozen times, you get ideas.  I started making things of my own.  Designing and testing to see if my ideas saw any improvements.  Working with scraps or materials that were thrown out.  People noticed.”

“Indeed,” Lotor almost smiled at the particular choice of words.  He begins to stack the designs together.  Tapping so the edges are aligned before sliding them across the table.  “Here.” 

 “She’s going to want this back,” Rua said cautiously.  But the prince is giving him such a pointed look the words fade away.  Giving him back the plans could be a trap, since the warden or one of the guards would punish him if they were found on him.  _No_.  It was an offering, or a bribe.  They would know then that Lotor was the only possible way the plans were returned to him, and even the prince would have to face consequences.  “What do you want?”

“There’s something I would like you to take a look at.” Lotor stood and walked over to the control panel for the room. He turns his back to the room, purposely taking his time to reactivate the audio and video feeds of the room.  By the time he glanced over his shoulder the plans were gone.  And an adequate enough job that he could not find them at a glance, although they must be somewhere on Rua’s body.  “If you are amenable?” 

Damn his curiosity. “I suppose…”

~*~*~

Rua could feel his eyes widen and mouth drop in disbelief as they rounded the corner to the platform that docked the prince’s cruiser.  Seriously… _seriously_?  Someone was pulling his leg.  Lotor, the supposed prince of the empire, was flying _that_?  “You’re kidding me.”

The man sighed quietly in agreement.  Rua wondered if the prince was aware he had.  “Unfortunately, I am not.”

“They decommissioned this entire line.  That was easier than trying to solve all the problems with the design or wasting time with repairs.”  Arms crossed, Rua craned his head back as he searched the hull.  “They were taking these apart when I first arrived, trying to salvage everything that would make up for the loss.  Crawled inside them for years.”

Fortuitous, then.  Lotor watched the young man out of the corner of his vision.  His attention was fixed on the cruiser.  Eyes darting, mouth moving quietly to himself, fingers already ticking off invisible checklists.  As he had thought.  Someone whose interest could be captured by the challenge set before them.

Rua finally turned to the prince.  “What is it that you would like me to do with the cruiser, exactly?”

“I would like you to make an assessment of the entire cruiser,” Lotor turned as well and caught Rua’s eyes in his own.  “While I make an assessment of the prison.”

Rua blinked in surprise, studying the prince.  He still held his gaze, shoulders straight and hands relaxed.  He was actually _sincere_ in his words.  “Just like that?  No commands, no demands?”

The prince smiled a little at that.  “I see little point in trying.  I know such things will not produce results with you.”

“Seems a little unfair, since you’re here to fix the prison anyway.”  Rua decides to push, seeing how far he can make it before the prince’s attitude changes. 

It appears to have little effect.  The smile remains, though it is now thoughtful.  “Then perhaps if you thought of it as something to occupy your time while keeping you out of the reach of the warden.  I keep her attention on the assessment and away from questioning you.”

Rua opens his mouth to question and immediately snaps it shut.  The whole reason she would be coming at him in the first place was the amount of attention the prince was paying to him.  She would try to get him to talk and reveal what the prince was after, or what they had discussed.  Yet not so much as backing Rua into a corner, as it was laying it out that the easiest route was to play along.  He can’t be angry at the ploy, since it has been laid out to be obvious to its recipient, but impressed.  “Clever.”

“I must be in these circumstances,” Lotor nods.  He then quickly gestured to a third woman, dressed the same as the first two, as she appeared at the doorway into the cruiser.  “Acxa will accompany you.  Let her know if there is any equipment you would require to asses the ship, and she’ll see it provided to you.”

~*~*~

After what had been a most confusing day, and an even longer confinement prior, Rua was finally allowed to return to his cell.  He felt the hard stare of the warden follow him until the sentries deposited him, but blessedly they left the door open.  There was still a varga or two until lights out. 

Which was good, since as soon as it was all clear visitors rushed into his cell.  The armor-plated metallurgist Gra’na.  And the many armed gravitationalist Slav, who all but pounced towards the bed.  “Ruari!”

Despite his exhaustion Rua couldn’t help but smile at Slav.  He leaned forward so the many hands could pat his face, checking him over.  Even his whiskers were twitching with worry.  “When they took you to isolation I thought you were a goner, done, over.  83.67% chance.  I am glad this is the reality where I was wrong, despite checking my work.”

“That’s because you never factor in my luck.”

 _Or your gut_ , Gra’na signed quickly.  She had received an injury when the facility on her home planet was captured, leaving the muscles weak on one side of her face and her lips partially fused.  She shifted one of her plates and reached into the pocket, pulling out a carefully wrapped bundle.   _I saved some.  Warden never feeds you when she’s angry_. 

“But you need it more than I do!”  Rua tried to protest, but he only received one of her looks.  She was two or three times his size and required more sustenance, but the prison often fed her the exact same portion as everyone else.  But he couldn’t deny how light headed he felt, especially after everything that had happened.  “Thank you…”  A quick squeeze of her hand before he took it, then quickly biting in before the guards noticed. 

Slav soothed the blanket into place before hopping on the bed.  “What did they want this time?”

“The usual,” Rua murmured around the food.  If it had any taste before, it was surely lacking in it now at the memory.  “Someone is here to check the prison.  Warden wanted to show off my ship.  Or they caught wind of it, most likely.”

“Mm, I occur with the second possibility.  Who is visiting the prison?”

“That’s what I don’t get.  Some guy, Prince Lotor.  Do they even have a prince?”  That was what bothered him.  What he knew about the command or, at least, what trickled down this far, was all about the Emperor.  Nothing about a spouse, and certainly nothing about a child.

 _White hair?_   Gra’na tilted her head.

“Yeah, down to here?”  Rua gestured at the middle of his chest.  “Never even heard of him.  He doesn’t even look all that Galran." 

_Father is Zarkon, but he is half.  They speak of him.  Rarely.  Patrols the Fringes._

That explained a few things and yet raised more questions.  Those closer to the center of the empire and higher up the chain of command were obsessed with purity, although there never seemed to be an adequate reason why.  The number of half-Galra within the empire was noticeable and yet treated only just higher than slaves.  For the _emperor_ to have a child was not pure Galra…

And while the edges of the empire were always under threat of expansion, many areas were deemed of poor interest.  Places to maintain or harvest resources, but many weren’t significant to warrant a stronghold or even a colony.  The prison itself sat on imagined border of one such area.  And in all the time he had been here Rua had not once heard mention of Prince Lotor.

“Your ship!”  Slav’s whiskers stood on end.  “He’s seen you _fly_ it? That’s where you’ve been this entire time? 

Rua nodded, “Some of the time.  The warden had me in iso before the test flight.  After that he questioned me.  And now he has me assessing his personal cruiser.”

“ _His cruiser!?_ ”  The tiny hands gripped Rua’s arms and shook him.  “Didn’t you think about the risks?  Understand the chances that he means you harm, or steal you or the ship?  Just the few things you told me increases it two---, no, tenfold!  I shouldn’t even have to calculate the risks for you.” 

It takes Slav’s concern for Rua to realize it, the fact finally clicking into place in his mind as he watches Slav’s fingers move in his calculations. 

He had not felt in danger around Lotor at all.

~*~*~ 

Rua thinks on it later, when he is locked in and the lights are off.  He thinks on it as he slowly makes his way through the cruiser, meticulously cataloguing the numerous issues and repairs that needed to be addressed.  His gut had yet to be wrong.  It kept him _safe_ , it has kept him _alive_.  He knows that Lotor wants something beyond the repair of his ship, that much is clear.  Perhaps the fighter he has built, perhaps something else.  Despite all that, not once has the prince ever felt dangerous or malicious.  He’s felt safer around Lotor in one conversation than he felt during his entire time at the prison.

Lotor. 

It’s a surprising thought, even now.  He remembers the first time he saw the flower as a child, the lone bloom clinging impossibly to the cliffside.  **Lo’toru**.  A purple stem and inner petals, fading out into white at the tips.  Under any other circumstances he could see a parent naming a child with a similar coloration after the flower, but here…

A prince.  A prince that was never spoken of.  A ship with no crew that limped into every port.  Who calculated every step with a sharp mind.  Who gathered every drop of information before making a decision.

Stories like this meant a strain between the parent and the child.  Had he fallen out of his father’s graces and sought redemption?  Lotor had said that he was under instructions to inspect the prison.  But such a task could be handled by anyone.  Exile, on the other hand, explained the state of the cruiser and the lack of supplies.  Explained why the warden cozied up to him when the prince was in sight and cursed him when he was gone.

Scarred fingers traced the possibilities just as he traced signs back to the source of a problem in the cruiser.  History and stories.  Things that should be known versus facts that were a shock to learn.  There was a reason the Galra rarely spoke of their prince even when their emperor was referred to constantly.  It shaped the need for a clever tongue and mastering every situation.  Resulting in a sorry enough state that Lotor had to turn to a prisoner to asses his ship rather than going to any number of repair facilities within the empire.  And entrusting his will to his precious few companions. 

Murmurs in the prison soon spread the word that they were his generals and female to the last.  It was a bit strange that all of the generals stayed, accompanying Prince Lotor in and around the prison despite how long it took.  Such actions in the Galra were typically reserved for personal guards or people much farther down the chain of command.  Not to mention the fact that the prince seemed to lack any sign of an army or fleet under him for his generals to command.  Although Rua had based that assumption on the lack of any inhabitants other than the five on the cruiser.

Calling them his harem or other such lewd comments were quickly quashed after one too many inmates said it in their presence.  Each one strong in arm or presence, able to quell most confrontations with a look, especially while flanking their prince.  It was easy for Rua to discern their true relationships to Lotor, as one was always assigned to accompany him as he worked his way through the crumbling vessel.

Zethrid is the name of the largest woman that accompanied the prince.  She ends up being the one to come escort him most mornings, leaning down to look into the cell as the door is released.  They merely walk, no need for shackles or weapons, although she keeps Rua in front of her at all times.  Zethrid is loud and almost crude, snarling most times when guards or the warden get in their way. 

He quickly realizes though that the brusque nature is reserved for people outside the prince’s circle, especially when they interfere with his commands.  She has little patience for their demands, yet takes the time to answer his questions about the state of the cruiser, or direct him to one of the other generals if it is too advanced for her.  Zethrid also pulls him from assessment of the cruiser at regular intervals, either making him sit for a drink or getting him something to eat.  She claims its because he’s too small, but he realizes at one of them she is making sure he is taking breaks to rest. 

That concern extends to his physical safety as well, as she’s ready and waiting underneath him when a support beam crumbles under his weight as he crawls along it to examine the ceiling, catching him with ease. 

Zethrid doesn’t let him live it down however or keep it from the prince. 

Ezor he meets by careening a wrench in her face.  He had been standing with Lotor, going over the assessment from the previous day, waiting for whichever general would be keeping an eye on him.  The thrusters were close to their replacement date, faulty trigger mechanisms were the reason by the lights in the-- 

He felt something in the room with them, but a glance told Rua it was empty.  And it wasn’t the sense that usually warned him.  Rather it was the feeling of being watched, or the sense at night when someone tried to get into his cell.  A quick glance at Lotor revealed the prince did not appear to sense the same thing, distracted with hologram blueprint of the cruiser.  He snuck a glance at where he thought the feeling came from and it was _there_.  A distortion.  Something trying to appear to bend light and color to match the background, but wrong for his eyes. 

Lotor had asked a question and Rua turned his attention to the prince to answer.  It would give himself a moment to clear his mind, to blink, before looking again.  There was the chance there was a leak in the room and light was wavering off the gas.  Gone--  No, not gone, moved.  And getting closer.  On instinct he reaches for the table next to him and hurls the first tool he finds at the mass.

“Ow!  That was mean!”  A bright orange female shimmered into view, a long appendage from her head twitching in pain.  She pouts as she rubs at the now sore spot on her forehead.  “What was that for?”

Was it a cloaking device in her armor?  An ability to change her color, like the chameleon creature of his mother’s planet?  He swallowed against his panic, shit he just _assaulted a general_ , “You came out of nowhere!”

The pout deepens as she bends closer to him.  Not angry, he realizes, but closer to offended.  “I just wanted to look!  Zethrid was talking about you.  Just for that I get to see these!”  And before he can move she’s rubbing her thumbs against both of his cheeks, watching as the spots stay in place.  “Are these tattoos? Cause if they’re spots for hiding they’re not very good.”

“Wha…. You mean my freckles?”

“Ooooo.  Freh-kils?”   And just like that the injury is forgiven and forgotten.

Ezor is energetic and lively as she escorts him around the cruiser, never seeming to tire.  She peppers him with questions as he works, often crawling or climbing after him as he tries to get at high risk areas.  It’s a comfort rather than a bother, as he ends up enjoying having someone to talk to. 

He meets Kova before he formally learns Narti’s name.  The lightest footsteps before the cat leaps on the surface he’s checking for faults.  Settling back on its haunches, watching him with purposeful eyes.  It’s been so long since he’s seen a creature that he falls prey to his excitement.  And failing to take a moment to wonder why there is a cat on a Galran cruiser.

“Hey there,” Rua says softly, remembering what his mother taught him.  He holds his fingers out for the cat to smell before curling them into a fist and holding it steady.  Moving his gaze slightly off the cat’s and blinking in slow beats.  It takes a few moments for the cat to respond.  A quick chirrup before bumping its head against his fist.  Rua rewards the small triumph with a quick scratch under the chin.

“That is a great compliment.”  A chuckle echoes against the metal walls, and he turns to find the prince with one of his generals entering.  There's a look to the prince that he can't place.  Surprise yet knowing at the same time, perhaps?  “Kova doesn’t take easily to people.”  The general nods in agreement.  And he recognizes her as the eyeless woman that accompanied the prince during the test flight.  He turns from the cat with a final pat and approaches her.

“Um… may I touch your hand?”  He moves until he stands in front of her but waits for her permission.  She nods and offers a sharp hand before he reaches for it.  Rua cradles it in one hand, arranging his fingers against her knuckles, before tapping with the fingers of his other hand against her palm.  A literal translation this time, matching his spoken words.  “I never thanked you the other day.  For when you stepped in with the warden.”

Prison cant came in several different forms.  Hand forms when words could not be used.  Patterns of taps when separated by a wall.  This was for when words and visible hands could not be used, hidden under tables or passing quickly in the hall.  Patterns on the palm in connection with the which knuckle was pressed.  From the places Rua had been held, and from the people who had taught him, the communication was known by oppressed populations across the empire. 

He taps the sign for the end of the sentence and rests his hand.  She responds, flipping the arrangement so she can respond. ‘No need.  The warden needed to learn her place.’  Her hand than slide forward, wrapping around his wrist until her palm was above his pulse. 

A strange sensation washed over him.  Like a thin wave of cool electricity right above his skin.  It settles immediately and then he hears her.  _You do not need to have fear of me.  This is the way I have to speak to you, if you will allow it_.   

“Whoa…”  Rua can do little to keep his amazement in check.  “That’s so cool!  Like… mind speaking?”

Narti seems startled.  Then pleasantly surprised as she presses her palm to his skin again.  _Yes, in a way.  Though many do not understand it and even fewer are comfortable with it_.  Rua is so distracted asking her, politely, about it that he does not see how Lotor visibly relax at the interaction.

Acxa is the most cautious and severe of the generals.  She speaks little unless it is to answer his questions concerning the cruiser, or to have him explain exactly what he is doing when Rua must go out of reach to evaluate something. Understandable, as they are all qualities needed to keep the prince from harm. 

Although there are times that she reveals much in what Acxa does decide to say.  They are on their way through the hanger to another part of the ship when something catches his eye.  There are some number of Galra fighters in their individual berths.  Between the fighters and the number of sentries he had seen onboard they would, at most, have only a handful of squadrons.  Which meant there was most likely fighters in need of repair or replacement.  One ship sat partially inside its berth, stripped down to about half of its construction.  Rua can see immediately that it is being altered from the standard design rather than under repair.

“Should I go over your fighter ships as well?” 

Acxa paused, turning to look from the inmate to the altered ship.  “That is Prince Lotor’s personal project, so no.  Unless he informs me otherwise.”

She meticulously reports his every move and action to the prince whenever Lotor arrives back at the cruiser.  All the generals do so.  Yet it is not in the way of someone merely reporting to their superior.  Lotor listens to all of them.  And in turn the prince speaks with them about his assessment of the prison, interweaving it with their own observations.  It is plain that he trusts their opinions and values the input.  It is a courtesy that Rua soon notices are extended to _him_ , despite his status as a prisoner, the prince often taking the time at the beginning or end of the day to go over what Rua had observed about the cruiser. 

Rua knows that he must remain cautious that Lotor’s actions are part of some laid out ploy, but it does not help that he appears so genuine.  And that his stark contrast in word and deed against many of those in command amongst the Galra are likely part of the reason he is spoken of so little.  It was if they thought his apparent failure to conform would cease to exist if he is ignored. 

Which is precisely, Rua realizes, is what Lotor uses to his advantage.

He’s done much of the same when he could safely get away with it.

~*~*~

And suddenly the time comes when little more can be done in the assessment of the cruiser and of the prison.  He’s brought to the command deck of the cruiser by Acxa to find that Prince Lotor and the rest of the generals are waiting for him.  But even as he tries to stand opposite him to report the prince gestures for Rua to stand at his side, the generals moving to allow him to take the spot, though he feels Axca’s gaze on him.  The prince merely watches, tiny movements around his mouth ghosting into a smile. 

So Rua begins by bringing up a hologram of the cruiser, arranging it so they think it is projected by the omni-tool they allowed him to borrow.  He shifts its blue color to a shade that they will be able to see with ease.  Specific areas could be magnified or reduced, as well as rotated or cut area to reveal different views.

“You know from your personal experience and my daily reports that your cruiser has numerous problems.  They vary in their severity and in the order in which they need to be addressed.  Some of the issues are singular, while others are going to chain together when one fails.  If you want me to move from assessment to repairs, I am severely limited by the supplies available here, as well as any repair timespan you might impose on me.  At most, I could fix it up and get you as far as a proper maintenance facility.  Maybe a bit more if you can force components out of the warden.” 

Rua leaned towards the hologram, fingers tapping over the projection to light up the most problematic areas in a bright yellow.  “But to be very blunt, that’s not going to do you much good.  With the amount of issues you have and lack of onboard engineers, you might as well find a new cruiser.  Or get one built.” 

He slowly filters through a few other colors which he’s used to coordinate issues with varying degrees of severity.  Each highlighted area is linked to an individual evaluation.  That in turn then branched out into the estimated amount of time needed, the materials required, and most sufficient method of repair or replacement.

By their faces, the news wasn’t good.  Or a surprise for that matter.  Even with an overall lack of technical knowledge they knew their cruiser was coming apart at the seams.  “How many engineers do you think we would need?”

Rua shrugged, gesturing to the room around them.  “Well, having one in the first place would put you leagues ahead of your current state.  So long as they were completely dedicated to repairs and maintenance.  Although with this amount of work a small team would work better.”

“Would one be able to manage?”

It is how the prince said it that made Rua finally look up.  Lotor is looking directly at him, expression purposely controlled.  The generals realize what he means in the same moment, but Acxa beats them to voicing it.  “You can’t be serious!”

“Why not?”  Lotor turned to his second-in-command.  “I’ve seen his documented history with this particular type of cruiser, not to mention experience with other ships.  He has honestly evaluated our cruiser and diligently alerted us to every issue, no matter how minor it might be.  This is in conjunction with a lack of sabotage, even if it would have proven beneficial or even a chance to escape.”

“He’s already sabotaged his own ships.”

“I’d do much of the same to keep my work out of people’s hands.”  Rua tensed as Lotor’s gaze turned back to him.  “I also remember that things were designed to fail without purposeful harm to a living pilot.  We could use many of his skills, even if it is simply covering areas that we lack.”  He _had_ noticed.  When?  How?

The generals were silent at that.  Each one sorting out their thoughts or studying Ruari in a new light.  Rua could feel his heart up in his throat.  But… it was a nervousness of his own mind, at thoughts of what might happen and what might go wrong whirled.  The icy feeling in his gut or the instincts that foretold danger, however, were silent.

“Can… I think on it?”  Rua finally spoke.  Pushing, testing.  Will he be forced into service, moved once more under the will of another?

“Of course.”  There was no anger or force in his reaction, causing the tense feeling in Rua’s shoulders to slowly release.  Lotor turned to his generals.  “It is something I would like everyone to consider.”

~*~*~

_A black dragon roared on a cliff side, violet light leaking like blood between the scales.  The land decaying under its talons.  Crumbling away into dust as the life force was sucked from it.  The dragon’s tail whipped violent through the dark sky behind it, the stars in its path wiped from existence._

_A prince stands in opposition.  Stands at Rua’s side.  Rua can feel the wind pull through his curls.  Can see the wind set the prince’s white hair to dance, free from the helmet that conceals his face.  Even though the prince is concealed in dark armor, it is accented with color.  Laced with Rua’s power.  Shining in the light that streams at their backs.  A sword is in his hand, a blue stone set in the guard, and knotwork carved around it._

_Rua turns to look behind them, and finds that knights stand with them, their armors rich in color.  Blue. Yellow.  Green.  Red.  Violet so dark its almost black, with another man with a glowing sword standing in the place of the knight’s missing right arm.  A princess stands in white armor, eyes shining as bright as the white castle behind her._

_He turns back to find that the prince has reached out to him.  Four women ring them. The lavender skin of the hand is bare and the nails are sharp.  Rua’s heart fluttering as he sees a lock of his own hair wrapped at the prince’s wrist, and he knows the knot of protection is done in his own hand.  “Come with me.”_

_The voice is warm._

_And it is safe._

Rua awoke with a start, sleep instantly chased from his mind.  He reached out, trying to sense if someone else was in the cell, but felt no one.  His heart was not hammering in his chest and no sense of dread, so it was not from the dream.  Instead the feeling of warmth and belonging of the vision lingered. 

How long had it been since he had one of them?

 He turned his head to catch sight of his curls.  They remained still and red.  No coming danger.  What was it then?

Then a commotion came down the level.  A woman’s voice he recognized, and two guards arguing with her.  The sound of cell doors opening.  He rolled off the bed and crouched next to the wall, tapping the part of the metal that echoed into the next cell.  _Slav_?

 _Here._   The replies came quicker as all his hands tapped at his spot.  _People moving.  Leaving.  Generals in charge._  

Generals?  The only generals he knew of nearby would be Lotor’s…  _I look_.  Rua padded silently over to the window in the cell and pressed up on his toes to look out.  The guards and sentries were gone from their normal stations and instead were being led away from the prison cells.  There was a general in charge of each level, forcing the staff of the prison to comply.  After that they moved to specific cells and began to remove the inmates.  

It was quickly clear that they were removing the actual inmates.  Keeping the numbers to manageable groups before moving the inmates in the direction of the hanger.  The cells of the assets and a handful of others were left alone with the doors kept locked.  To keep them separated?  Or… to keep them from being targeted by those being removed?

Both proved correct after roughly half a varga when the generals returned to the prison cells.  They picked one cell to release and then had the inhabitants fetch the rest of the prisoners on the level.  Rua took a step away from the door as he saw Ezor approach.  The bubbly general immediately opened it up, smiling.  “Hey!  Would you go let everyone out of their cells on this level?  Lotor wants everyone together to speak to them.”

He could do little but nod and dart to the next cell to release Slav.  The two traveling down their side and up the other releasing everyone, one of Slav’s hands constantly gripping Rua’s prison suit.  Once released the generals led them down to the yard, merely providing directions rather than herding.  Lotor soon joined them, looking up from video feed from his omni-tool.  In the moments Rua caught of the video he saw it was ships leaving the hangar docks before Lotor turned to address the small group.

“Many of you know why I am here, as I included you in my investigation of the prison.”  Lotor looked at each of them in the eye as he spoke, including Rua.  “I have seen what you have seen and witnessed what you spoke of.  This prison could not continue as it was and thus I have made my judgement.  The warden and all of her people have been removed, and the sentries will be completely wiped of any programming relating to her policies.  The general prison population has also been removed and sent to more appropriate facilities.”

A murmur went up in the group as they released what this meant.  Lotor allowed it to pass before raising a hand.  “Unfortunately, there is not much else I can accomplish at the moment.  Releasing you all completely would draw too much of the empire’s attention.  To myself, but more importantly to all of you as well as your families or home planets.  To remain here is the safest course of action I can determine in this moment for you.  In exchange, however, I will provide as many freedoms to you as I can afford, including what you would need to continue your research.”    

“You will also be included in all decision regarding this facility moving forward.  Particularly, as well, for those of you present who are not considered scientific assets or actual prisoners but were nonetheless kept here.”  As much as any were loath to admit the prince’s words were true.  Removing the warden and the prison population was already a questionable enough move.  To then turn and release scientific assets would then fully draw the empire’s eyes in their direction.  Most likely other members of the empire would hunt them down to return them to their previous imprisonment, or destroy them or their homes as punishment.  Everyone here was intelligent and experienced enough to realize that the words he spoke were true. 

The declarations paused after that as the prince allowed the assets to talk amongst themselves.  The others, those that had been imprisoned falsely or in someone else’s place, also had to figure out what the best course was.  The best course…  He could feel it now.  A path now before him he could have never imagined he would take. 

“Prince Lotor?”

Lotor turned to him and for the first time Rua realized that the prince looked nervous.  As if for a moment he questioned if the action he had taken was the right one.  The look passed as the prince smiled softly at him, turning to give his full attention.  “Yes?”

“I’ve decided to go with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ruairí is a name of Gaelic origin that means "red" or "red king". He often goes by Ruari or Rua since most Galra have trouble with correctly saying his name, as well as the fact Rua was a nickname his mother used for him. 
> 
> When Rua speaks and the words are bolded, he's speaking either in English or in Gaelige, as his mother taught him both languages. At this point in the story (pre-capture of Shiro and the Holts) neither language is included with translators the Galra use, which I have included since the show never explained how the hell everyone understands each other. Galr is the name I've given to the language the Galra speak.
> 
> When Narti speaks the words will be italicized.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which you will have to tear the Found Family trope from my hands

“But, I have conditions.”

Lotor had expected nothing less.  “I would be concerned if you didn’t have any.  Name them.”

“I will work on repairing and maintaining your cruiser, as well as upgrading as supplies and circumstances permit.”  Ruari’s expression pulls his full attention now, words direct without a hint of circumventing.  “My ship is my own work.  If and when I share it with you, or build another for your personal use, will be under my own will and terms.  And I wish to speak to the prison, and chose to whom I speak, at times of my choosing with no forewarning, albeit it with consideration towards safety, distance, and interference.” 

 “Agreed.  Let me know when you are ready, and I’ll have your work brought aboard.  Any and all materials the warden was keeping are available now, although we need to check for discrepancies between recorded inventory and the actual components present...”  Lotor trailed off in thought, hand curling to support his chin.

Rua had expected ire and annoyance to overtake the prince.  He had what he wanted.  There wasn’t any more reason to play along if it was a trap.  For a non-Galran, a prisoner no less, to make demands?  Yet Lotor didn’t even hesitate.  He answered and moved on in the same breath.

“With your permission, I’d like to confer with one of the other scientific assets concerning the compressors.”

“Will you have to reconstruct them?”

“No, I don’t think so.”  Rua gestured with his hands, shaping and stacking imaginary parts together. “Everything is there, is just the framework holding it in place is shot.  I have some ideas of how to get it back together and the materials I’d use, but I’m not quite sure if it would work any longer than the one you made.  I can introduce you; she’s a metallurgist.”

The prince only takes a moment to consider it.  “I would like that.  I’ll inform Acxa that she’s arriving.”

Gra’na’s visit on the cruiser went smoothly.  As Rua had guessed she had a few suggestions that proved invaluable to the repair of the compressors.  He observed and helped her in construction, experience in case he had to make the same repairs in the future.  What neither had expected was Lotor to work alongside them as well.  Asking questions of Gra’na in the slower moments and proving his own keen eye of mechanics. 

Narti was the one to escort them out of the cruiser.  She lingered for a moment before reaching up to cup Gra’na’s face, fingers light over where her jaw had fused.  Something seemed to pass between them.  And whatever it was made the metallurgist relax, eyes bright with understanding.  The general gave a small bow and left, allowing the two some privacy before Gra’na returned to the prison. 

“ _I can see why you agreed to leave_ ,” Gra’na signed when she was out of sight, face softened.  “ _They’ll take care of you._ ”

~*~*~

The cruiser remained a few more quintants for Rua to complete the most pressing repairs.  The ones too dangerous to ever do out in space, as well as the ones that might leave them powerless and stranded should it go wrong.  The rest could he could start addressing while in flight or complete the next time they landed. 

Lotor spent much of that time reprogramming the sentries and, more drastically, reorganizing the structure of the prison.  There was no way to safely release those falsely imprisoned or those sent to serve another’s sentence, so they instead were placed as its security above the sentries.  Not so much as to keep the assets contained as to keep them safe from outside forces.  The rooms once claimed by the warden and her lackeys were opened to the assets as their new quarters, or spaces to turn into workshops. 

They still had to continue their work, but any information or developments would first be sent to Prince Lotor and afterwards filtered to the empire.  It was not explicitly stated yet many recognized the implication of his words.  While some work would have to be revealed to keep suspicions from turning the Empire’s attention back in their direction, he would keep back as much of it as possible.

That, or keep it for himself.  It was a risk they had little choice in taking, but Lotor’s actions while at the prison had gained some measure of their trust.  The rest was garnered through Ruari, whom they viewed closer to an envoy rather than a traitor or sellout.  It wasn’t a surprise that they would trust one of their own in this matter.  Though Lotor could not disregard how helpful their new engineer was in helping the interactions with the prison inhabitants proceed smoothly.

Having a new member on the cruiser after such a long time, on the other hand…

“What is the issue, Acxa?”

“Our… engineer… made a request to alter one of the sentries for his personal use.”  Her hesitancy at the title is both purposeful and natural.

“I need it to check on the cruiser’s crystal and housing room,” Rua clarified.  “It’s the only area I haven’t taken a look at.  I assumed it was working enough to get your cruiser here, but I can’t make that assumption moving forward and especially not before testing the repaired engine parts.”

“While that is within reason, my concern is how this relates to wanting to modify one of the sentries.” Acxa countered. 

“Look, your cruiser runs on some level of battle-class Balmera crystal, right?  One that was ‘refined’ using imperial Galra methods before installation?”  He waited until one of them nodded.  “Then I can’t interact with it.  My body can’t handle exposure to that corruption, especially the light and energy it gives off.”

Lotor and Acxa shared a glance.  The use of the word corruption was deliberate.  And spoken with such natural conviction that it was something Ruari had been taught, or learned the hard way.  Acxa’s caution had foundation, but to say that Lotor’s curiosity wasn’t peeked would be lying. 

“All I would do is switch the faceplate of the sentry to hopefully filter out some of the corruption, and remote piloting so I can examine everything through the sentry.”  Rua motioned to the helmet of a sentry, then turned back to Acxa.   “You can watch me as I do it, or do the remote piloting for me, if you have concerns.”

Acxa relaxed a bit at that, but Lotor knew from her expression she’d only follow his decision on the matter.  The request and explanation were as direct as it had been so far from Rua.  What might be a concern would be what he would use to replace the faceplate and if it interacted with the sentry beyond a simple viewing port.  “What material would you use instead?”

“Here.” Rua pressed the index and middle fingers of both hands to the bottom of the faceplate, then traced the outline in opposite directions. There is a hum in his throat before his lips move, singing so soft its nearly under his breath.  A glowing blue outline formed in the wake of his movements and remained until he had entirely created the outer edge.  He twisted one hand over the center then pressed downwards while spreading his fingers.  The light at the edges raced to fill in the outline until they met in the middle.  A soft clink sounded in the room as it settled on the original faceplate, the singing trailing to silence before Rua picked it up and held it out to Lotor, 

Even having watched its creation, Lotor’s mind thought it a hologram or projection until he touched it.  It was real, solid and weighted as he took it in hand.  A nearly exact copy of the faceplate currently attached to the sentry’s helmet save for the fact it was a blue. 

A shade very reminiscent of Rua’s eyes.

It was not as if they had never seen anyone manifest a power or ability, and certainly not the first instance a prisoner managed to keep such a thing hidden.  Each of his generals and Lotor himself had such things to varying degrees.  But to seemingly manifest or create a solid working object out of nowhere was… rare.  Potentially unique, even, given Lotor could not immediately call a comparison to any species under the empire to mind.  Was it pulling material from the air? Or perhaps lending it from his own body?  He could feel Acxa’s purposeful gaze on him until he calmed himself and tucked away the bubbling questions for later. 

The faceplates were easy to swap out.  And the only effect it seemed to have was to shade the video feed into blue tones, while losing none of the clarity.  Acxa manually piloted the sentry as Ruari and Lotor watched on.  Rua on the images coming in from the feed, and Lotor on their engineer. 

It was soon evident that Rua had not been lying when he revealed his body could not handle the exposure.  One of the hands bracing his body as he leaned towards the screen creeped up unconsciously to rub at his temple.  Squinting, then trying to lean further back from the screen.  His hands eventually moved to create something akin to goggles that hooked over his ears to shield his eyes, again in the same blue color and accompanied by the singing.  It seemed to give him enough time to do a somewhat thorough check.

“That’s enough for now,” Rua slipped the cover off his eyes and held them loosely in one hand.  It appeared to disintegrate after a few moments, disappearing into shimmering specks of light.  He rubbed at his eyes with the other, head tucked towards his chest.  When he finally looked up they could see that his eyes were bloodshot and beginning to form dark circles beneath.  “I didn’t spot anything.  Did either of you?”

“No,” Acxa answered first.  “Is… this going to be a continued problem?”

“I’ve had to work around it on previous ships.  If you permit me to use this or similar methods, I can manage.”

“Is there anything of a similar nature we should be aware of?”  Lotor asked.  Rua started to respond then appeared to think better or it.  Or, perhaps, reluctant and unsure how to explain it.  “Consider nothing too trivial.  While it is beneficial for planning ahead, it also relates to your ease and comfort while abroad my cruiser.  I apologize for not seeking the information sooner; it is something I should have asked in the beginning.” 

The prince’s apology appeared to startle Rua, his attention turning fully to him.  “I…  The only solar light is on the sun deck, correct?  Not in any of the private quarters?”

“Yes.  Those that designed this style of cruiser did not take it into account.  Do you require access?”

“For about a varga, after ship’s dawn.”  He offered little explanation, turning to leave.  Uncertain, perhaps, but not fearful.  “I’ll go test the engines now.”  He turned the corner to the hallway and was gone, light footfalls disappearing rapidly. 

“Your curiosity is going to prove too risky one day.”  Acxa mumbled as she directed the sentry to return.

She tried to keep her expression from a pout when she felt his cheek bump against her head.  “I do believe my risk taking has gained me four companions, so far.”

~*~*~

It seemed just as suddenly as the prince and his generals had arrived, it was time to leave.  The prison was secured under Lotor’s control but structured to rule itself.  Repairs that permitted flight and hyper-space jumps were completed.  Logically there was no reason to stay longer.  And Rua had agreed to go.

Standing here saying goodbye made his heart ache. 

Slav and Gra’na were primary among the ones to see him off.  Soft reassurances and reminders to keep himself safe.  He reminded them as well that he would keep in contact.  Maybe even return to check up on them, if it was permitted.

Leaving that which was familiar, even if the original circumstances were less than ideal.  And entering the unknown, with a prince and crew that did not follow expectations. 

He was given quarters all to himself.  The main room was average to small by imperial standards, but more space than Ruari had ever been given during his captivity.  And one that he noticed seemed to be as far away from the crystal power the ship as possible.  Albeit still within easy reach of most the critical areas of the cruiser should anything fail-- 

An inner door opened under his hand to reveal another attached room. Private, with a sink and toilet-- Was that a _shower_!? He hadn't been allowed much access to the personal quarters and certainly not to the private rooms of the generals or the prince. Such a thing to be surprised by, but there's a nozzle overhead and drainage to recycle to other functions in the ship. And it is water, true running water, as he excitedly plays with the settings. Stands without caring to the time just to let it run over his hand.

Part of him is screaming at the foolishness as he strips and lets it flow through his hair. What if someone found him, what if they burst in? He needed to be alert every moment, at least place an alarm over the door. But no, _no_.   He's scrubbed through his hair twice before he realizes that there are inserts set into the wall of the shower, containing bottles of substances that smell clean yet herbal as he fiddles with the caps.  One would logically has to be shampoo, and he doesn't care, working it through his hair again and again until his scalp aches and palms tingle.  

He breaks when he realizes he's gasping for air.  Pressing the heels of his hand into his eyes as his body curls in on itself, crouching with his head between his knees.  Pretending that the water draining over his back is his mother's hands.  Whispering along to the memory of her voice until he stops shaking.  

The room is still empty, the entrance door still closed, as Rua peeks out.  The red curls are dried as much as possible with the towel he found in another compartment, nerves too frayed to risk looking for a drying unit.  The space is just as he left it.  Waiting.  _His_.  The bed was a bunk inset into the farthest wall.  A solid surface on three sides and only one direction he could be approached.  There wasn’t just a single blanket, but several, piled in the middle with a few pillows.  They smelled clean with perhaps a hint of the stale air of storage. 

Rua could feel the exhaustion creeping in at the thought of a nap.  Things had been hectic since Prince Lotor arrived.  The physicality of first assessing the cruiser then performing the repairs.  Not to mention the mental strain of such heighted caution around the Warden as well as the prince and his generals.  The emotions crashing from one extreme to the next.  

It was easy enough to arrange the pillows on one end of the bunk and burrow into the blankets.  Maybe just close his eyes for a few doboshes.  Then he’d get up.  Figure out which repairs should take precedent…

And despite the strangeness of it all, of the unfamiliar ship and nature of his new companions, Rua slept.

…

…

…

“Hey kit, got everything you need?”

Zethrid had meant well.  Yeah, the environment of the cruiser had switched over to sleep cycle.  And logically their newest addition would be asleep, especially after so much had changed for him.  Old habits were hard to break.  Which meant she didn’t think of the repercussions of opening the door to Rua’s assigned room and poking her head in.

The reaction was immediate.  Rua snapped awake, whirling in the confined space of the bunk to face her.  Something flashed in his hand, bladed, held in front to ward her off.  Legs kicking to be free of the blankets while he locked eyes on her.  They were wide, frantic.

“Hey, easy.”  She wasn’t exactly sure how effective it was, but she exposed and raised her hands nonetheless.  Proof there was nothing in them, making sure she didn’t move from the doorway.  “I wanted to see if you had everything, but I see Narti found enough blankets…”

One tick passing, then another.  Slowly Rua’s frantic breathing settled, lowering the object he wielded in his hand.   “Y-yeah, I’m fine.”  His body was still coiled tightly.  Ready to spring at a notice.

There wasn’t much more she could say.  All she could do was leave before she made it worse.  “Alright, see you at breakfast.”

Lotor and Ezor were the first to notice Zethrid’s entrance.  It was easy to see her anger.  Telegraphed in her stiff stance, in the tight manner as she crossed over arms over her chest.  She always ground her teeth to stop herself from growling.  She turned her ire to an invisible foe on the far wall, approaching no one less she snap.

Their prince waited, watched, until her stance relaxed.  “What is it, Zethrid?”

“Rua, he’s…. He’s been spooked.”  Zethrid forced out a breath before taking and holding another for a moment.  “I don’t know if he’s been touched.  I fucked up:  I went to see if he needed anything and basically walked right in…”

“ _He was startled.  In truth, we are all equally to blame.  In all our preparations for leaving, we forgot to instruct Ruari in how to secure his room_.” Narti offered.  “ _I believe he is the type that would understand your intentions, once settled.”_

“And if not, we can always explain tomorrow.”  Lotor concurred.  It was hard not to smile, especially at Zethrid’s expression.  But he kept it reassuring for her sake.  She might be his fiercest on the battlefield, but he knew it intertwined with her gentle side.  “Ezor, why don’t you fetch him for breakfast?  He seems to respond to you the best.” 

~*~*~

Rua was expecting one of the generals to be waiting for him in the morning, considering his outburst the night before.  He was not, however, expecting it to be Ezor.  She was waiting some distance down the hall and not directly in front of his room.  She bounded closer with one of her smiles, yet Rua could see it was laced with uncertainty.  She gave him more personal space as well even as she leaned forward to speak to him.  “I uh… came to get you for breakfast!  But first, we can secure your room?  Forgot to show you yesterday, ha ha…”

The general was trying to put him at ease.  Watching to see if any of her movements or actions caused distress.  Her words seemed sincere, even if the purposely demure attitude was out of place for her.

One panel for the mechanism to secure his room was outside, with a matching twin panel on the inside of the room.  He kept an ear on her explanation, but his eyes locked on the instructions she put in.  “Right now its open, but you can change it to limit who can access the room.  Its based off the genetic scanners that lock technology to Galran users, but Lotor altered it so it can lock to individuals, or something.”

That seemed to be the case.  It was a simple scan where he could use his hand or fingerprints, even simply wave at it if he was in a hurry.  And just as Ezor had promised, when she tried to do the same thing the door remained shut and sealed.  She went on to explain that now only he could enter any instructions and that he could alter it in the future to allow other individuals access.  That must be what the others did if she took the time to mention it. 

“Hey, Rua?  I know she scared you last night, but Zethrid wouldn’t have hurt you.” 

It was her tone that made him turn to study her face.  Near imploring him to believe her, as if she was worried he was now frightened of the other general.  “I know she might look scary, but she’s really only scary in battle.  And that’s to keep the rest of us safe.  Zethy’s just really protective…”

He studied her for a moment before finally nodding.  He had only been startled last night, his reaction honed from one too many inmates trying to break into his cell.  In truth, the use of a nickname, said so affectionately… Hmm.

“Great!”  And just like that, Ezor’s usual demeanor returned.  She laced her arm through his and took off down the hall.  “Let’s go get some grub!”

“Grub?”  That was right.  Both she and Zethrid had mentioned breakfast.  If it were any other group Rua might have questioned why any of them would deign to share a meal with a newly freed engineer.  He didn’t need much evidence to realize they conformed little to the empire’s rhetoric and ideals. 

What he needed to learn was why. 

Still it was surprising to find that breakfast was set out on a table just off the kitchen and everyone, including Lotor, was waiting for them.  A nearly circular structure where every seat was on the same level.  Which meant that the prince sat neither at the head of the table or above his generals, but amongst them.  Ezor brought him to the free seat between Narti and Lotor before taking the only other free seat.  He noted the position meant Zethrid wasn’t immediately in view unless he turned to look or leaned around Narti.  And immediately opposite Acxa’s watchful stare.

The fare was by no means extravagant or grandiose, especially for a prince’s cruiser.  But the options were more diverse and looked eons better than what was offered at the prison.  He couldn’t help noticing that the portion sizes were nearly the same, albeit it a little more to Zethrid due to her size.  And that he received a plate just like everyone else.   

Save for Narti, who had a tall container of liquid with a long tube in front of her, although the color might be the same if the meal was blended together.  Its reason was clear when she raised the tube to the back corner of her mouth.  Her jaw seemed only able to open just enough to let it slip inside and hold it in place.  That must have been why she had taken a look at Gra’na…

A rolling chirp sounded near his elbow just before a weight settled on his leg.  He peaked down to see Kova was halfway into his lap, looking up expectantly.  A smile escaped as he took a little bit from his plate and offered it.  There was no denial from Narti and the cat seemed to enjoy it, so he continued to sneak him bits throughout the meal. 

From his angle, Lotor was the only one able to see the other movement.  Part of the morsel would go to the cat, while the rest was tucked in a pocket.  To hide it for later in case it was needed, if a reliable food source was kept from him.  So recognizable because Lotor, and all of the generals, had to break themselves of the same anxiety and habit before.  The prince kept his face masked as Rua, so concentrated on keeping them unaware, failed to notice Narti sneaking extra bits onto his plate from Zethrid’s. 

He waited until Rua had a chance to eat most of his food before quietly setting the information tablet next to his plate.  “Ruari.  This is all the information I could find in the imperial databases concerning you.  And your mother.”

The young man understandably stilled as he looked at what was pulled up on the tablet.  Being able to learn exactly what the empire knew, and didn’t know, concerning him was the last thing he’d expected.  There was a reason the empire kept it unavailable to the people they capture and conquered. 

And that same reason was exactly why Lotor had made it a point to give it back to any who joined him.

There was power in that knowledge, and an ability to begin regaining one’s autonomy.   Realizing that the empire, despite its claims, was not all knowing.  Realizing that it was in a person’s power now to decide what one could continue to keep hidden from the empire.  History, connections, powers and abilities.  And, in some instances, knowing they could still be able to keep one’s planet, people, and family from harm.    

Ruari had made no demand or condition concerning his mother.  A move some might have interpreted as resentment or apathy, but Lotor knew it was out of consideration for her safety.  Of not giving an untested ally something to use against him.  It was there in the moment of hesitation, the tremble in his hand, before Rua took the screen. 

“The information is up-to-date, as far as I can ascertain.  Although there are some networks I do not have… ‘access’ to.  And there are instances when it takes time for news or updates to make it out here to the Fringes.” 

The young man slowly cycled through the files on his mother.  Taking his time reading the details of each recorded incident.  Memorizing the changes in each visual record, lingering on the last Lotor had been able to find in the databases.  She was looking purposely at the camera, triumphant smile on her face streaked with soot as dust from the blown-out wall billowed around her.  Her hand made some sort of gesture where all the fingers curled into a fist save for the middle one. 

Whatever it meant brought a soft chuckle from Rua. His fingertips traced the contours of her face.  He didn’t seem to mind that the touch could not imitate the real thing.  There was pain there, yes.  Momentary longing.  A swell of pride that mellowed into affection. 

“If it is of any comfort, you and your mother are the only two of your kind in the database.  Neither of your peoples are under Galra control.”  Lotor offered.

The blue eyes widened, nearly imperceptible.  Almost like the soft, confused “neither?” escaping just under his breath.  Fingers immediately pulled up the genetic information and hovered over the categorization.  His eyes flicked upwards, stiff for a moment in preparation for a trap, before deciding whatever confirmation or consideration he sought was worth the risk.  Rua stared at the same blank unavailable screen that Lotor had received each time he tried.  Then…

Rua laughed.

Lotor watched as some realization clicked into place.  An energetic light to his eyes, made to squint just a little when the pull of his lips dimpled his cheeks.  Breathless relief, at first, before the laughter settled in deeper and pulled from his belly. 

“ _‘_ Pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall _.’_ ”  Rua whispered the phrase as the mirth finally settled.  It was more to himself than anyone else.  Yet it had the cadence of an adage, of a wisdom or lesson held in a few easy to recall words.  He seemed lighter, some burden lifted from him, more at ease as he tried to return the data pad to Lotor. 

“It is yours, as well as the omni-tool you used previously.  Both are linked to the information and communications network here on the cruiser.  They can also be used to contact any of us directly as well, should you need us.”  

“You…”  Rua paused, considering his words.  It could be dangerous to say.  Yet with how the prince acted, how all of them acted… “You understand that I cannot, will not, reveal information that would lead the empire to their planets.  The mere fact Zarkon hasn’t been alerted to them through me… I can’t risk it.”

The mood at the table evened.  The generals growing quiet as they looked to their leader.  Lotor set his utensils down and turned fully to their newest addition.  “I understand that implicitly, Ruari.  That is not what we do.  What _I_ do.  Each foothold denied, each individual kept free or permitted their life, is a chance to keep the empire at bay.  To push them back.  Perhaps even one day…”

Rua sucked in a breath.  For a moment the words buzzed in his ears.  Push back against the empire, _stop_ the empire?  It was the unspoken wish of the universe, the hope that kept so many going.  It had to be possible.  Someway, somehow. 

He realized that Lotor’s attention was still on him.  Waiting, watching.  Studying.  There was no lie or malice surrounding him.  Lotor must have found something similar in him, the line of his shoulders relaxing.  “It is true there is little we keep from each other here, but there are still things it is safer to keep secret.  Or allow deniability should things go wrong.  It is your decision, and we will respect it.  The only time I might ever ask if there are signs that your planets are in danger of discovery or invasion.  And only then it would be to turn the empire’s eye, or prevent as much loss as possible.”

“In relation to that,” Lotor gestured to the information still pulled up on the data pad. “I do have a discreet program in place that will send an alert if any of your people are placed into the system.”  Lotor laughed softly to himself, an almost sheepish expression as began to eat again.  “Admittedly, I am curious.  Much too curious if my generals’ warnings are repeated so much.  Though I am content some point in the future to discuss the facilities that you moved through before arriving at the prison.  Particularly, the people in charge during the times you were present.”

“I can do that,” Rua agreed, leaning back in his chair.  Kova was fully in his lap now purring up a storm.  He absently stroked him as the rest returned to their meal.

It was a lot to process.

“So, you’re mixed too?”  Rua looked across the table to find Acxa watching her plate.  Purposely trying to feign disinterest.  As if it might hide the fact that she was the one who asked.  She finally looked up when she could no longer withstand the looks at the table, jerking her chin towards the data pad. 

Mixed _too_.  The fact she even asked in the first place.  He looked around the table, realizing what he had unconsciously known all along.  Not only was Lotor of mixed heritage, every single general was as well.  That was why they served alongside him, protected him at every step.  Narti nodded as she felt his gaze turn to her.  “I am, although neither part is Galran.” 

“Whose planet did you grow up on?” Ezor asked excitedly, chin in both her hands.

“My _ren_ ’s,” he offered, then clarified at the confused expressions.  “My other parent.  It’s a gender-neutral term they came up with for me to use; it plays on the word for parent in one of my mother’s languages as well as the flowers that grew around our house.”

“How many languages did you have to end up learning?”

He counted quickly on his fingers. “Five, if you also include _Galr_ and prison cant.”

“He’s got you beat Acxa,” Ezor teased, poking the general in her side.

Acxa had to swat at the hand several times.  “Technically Narti has everyone beat.”

“ _I do_.”

“There’s reading minds, then actually speaking the language.”

“Semantics.” “ _Semantics_.”  Acxa and Narti replied at the same time.

The chatter picked up around the table.  One of the generals asking a little question into his origin, sometimes offering little bits of their own.  And Rua answering.  Each time growing more comfortable, more at ease with the interactions. 

Lotor closes his eyes and allows the warmth of the scene to wash over him.

~*~*~

There is so much work keeping the ship running that much of his days are occupied.  The repairs are one thing, neatly following the catalogue he had made during his assessment.  Trying to figure out a normal maintenance schedule, so things won’t turn to problems in the future, is another. 

Still, there is familiarity in the routine.  Even it is one much of his own making.  Starting each day at dawn in the ship's cycle, dozing under one lights on the sun deck.  He had feared they would deny him, even question or use such an odd request to an advantage.  But it was worth it, Rua decided every morning, feeling the stored sunlight seep into his skin.  A sense of strength, of normalcy.  And warmth in remembering sleepy dawns tucked under his _ren_ 's chin.

There is some unspoken rule amongst the prince's group, or perhaps so common it is now habit, that at least one meal a day is eaten together.  If one is missing at the appointed time they are fetched.  Or if at a task they could not leave, at least one would bring their meal and eat with them.

So, too, Rua also notices that he is always served last.  Not to remind him of his order or position.  But so that whoever passes it down can add to his plate from their own.  Sharing.  Showing that he will not go hungry with them. 

There is laughter when he thanks them, and it reminds him of his mother. 

He hadn’t really considered what Lotor and the generals did on normal assignment until his data pad chimed one quintant.

It was a message from Lotor, alerting all of them that they would be arriving shortly at the planet Deyalea.  The message is meticulous in its layout and information.  Why they were visiting the planet.  If there was previous contact, and how that contact had gone before.  Each general was each given a personal mission or instruction.  Even Rua.  It was more of a suggestion, if there were any pressing repairs needed while grounded, although he was free to join the main group if he so wished.  Several files were linked to the message, which Rua was surprised to find connected to many aspects of the planet.  Geological features, weather patterns, inhabitants and their culture...

He has no idea he’s lost himself reading until the group moves into the hanger.  He hastily turns the projection off and slides off his perch.  The generals are talking quietly amongst themselves, but Lotor has noticed.  A nod in his direction, eyes keen.  “You may join us, if you wished.”

There are a few repairs he knows he should get to while the cruiser is grounded.  Any other commander would be infuriated at a crew member wasting time planet, but Rua has an inkling such comparison might always be moot.  Lotor has invited him, twice even.  Still… “Perhaps later, there’s a few things I should get started.”

“Of course.”

It’s not until they’ve stepped onto the planet that Ezor leans to his ear.  “Do you think he’ll be ok alone in the cruiser?”

Lotor turns back to their ship.  It is easy to spot the figure settling onto one of the highest points, where the view is clear to the horizon.  Even from here he can see the eyes slipping closed, tilting his head back as the wind whips through his curls.  Taking in the expanse of the sky above and the warmth of light in it.  He cannot contain a smile when he knows how Ruari feels in this moment.  “He’ll be fine.”

~*~*~

The meeting with the Deyalean leadership goes smoothly.  The harvests were plentiful, and the crop of medicinal herbs they had helped transplant from a nearby planet previously had taken well.  There are still instances of the plague that had led to the request for aid several visits ago, but they are now not only able to treat it but spot its symptoms much earlier.  The knowledge that his hunch had worked is enough for Lotor, but even he is not foolish enough to refuse thanks expressed in a few extra fresh supplies. 

His generals are finishing up their small tasks.  Or enjoying their short free time on the planet.  Such times were precious and usually hard to come by.

Rua, however, is hard to track down.  Lotor finds that a few minor outside repairs are completed while a few others await the finish of a diagnostic.  But no engineer to go with them.

Lotor finally spots him a short distance away from the cruiser, red hair in the midst of a gathered crowd.  For a moment the prince’s eyes dart to their hands, to take in the lines of their bodies, but he finds no confrontation.  The adults present are amused or attentive, completely at ease in allowing their children near a stranger.  The children are numerous and crowding Rua, utterly enraptured with his every word. 

Rua leans back, gesturing wide with one arm, pointing off at some imagined distance.  A few steps closer allow Lotor to finally pick up on the conversation.  Eyes widening after only a few moments allows him to realize his engineer is not merely speaking, but telling.

“ _Sh’mana finally agreed, for he could not bare to see her so sick with worry. ‘I will go,’ he said, ‘but I will not leave you unprotected.’_ ” 

Rua’s voice dropped into a deeper tone, giving the character he spoke of a distinct voice.  He then reached for a thin metal rod that had been leaning nearby, forgotten when the children had approached him.  One end was braced in his hands in a dramatic flare while the other pressed into the dirt as he moved. 

 _“ ‘This is a magic circle.  As long as you remain within no harm will come to you.  Though you may leave, none can enter.’  It was only after he was assured Princess Si’ita was safe within the circle did Sh’mana leave in search of her beloved Prince Ra’amaa_.”

Rua has used the movements to draw a wide circle in the dirt, one bare foot even tracing some design on the outer edge.  The moment the circle is complete many of the children rushed forward to stand inside it, some even pulling an adult by the hand to follow.  Rua smiled, joining the children, laying a long cloth over his hair to veil it, bracing a hand against his cheek as he cast a worried gaze outside the circle.  

“ _Princess Si’ita waited.  Eyes straining for any glimpse of the brothers.  Ears trained to any unusual noise from the jungle that would foretell their fate or return.  One hour.  Then another.  A night.  And a morning.  No sign, no voice.  Did the silence speak of safety, or of tragedy?_ ”

He stretched out the words, somehow giving a physical sense to the passage of time in the story.  Rua whisked the cloth, representing the princess, off of his hair and draped it over the head of one of the children.  He then darted out of the circle, picking up the rod as he went.  Quick hands raced through his hair until it was wild.  He then leaned heavily against the rod, now a walking stick, head down so his hair covered his face. 

_“ ‘It was when the sun reached its pinnacle of the day that an old man shuffled into the clearing.  Clothes dirtied from years of travel, the sandals long worn away from his feet, all the bearings of one of the ancient bearers of knowledge.’ ”_

_“Old father, please accompany me here, that I may give you company and rest.”  Offered the princess, gesturing inside the circle.  But the old man swayed on his feet, as if he would collapse at any moment.  Princess Si’ita rushed to him with water and a little stool to sit upon.  The moment her foot fell outside the circle—”_

The red hair rushed as he snapped his head back, throwing up his arms with a wild expression on his face.  Baring his teeth into a roar, fingers curling like wicked talons.  _“ “The old man transformed into the ten-headed demon, Ra Vana!  He grabs the princess and whisks her to his palace.  Where he intends to keep her as his own.”_

Rua reached into the circle and whisked the child who he had given the veil into his arms.  The child’s eyes were wide.  Frightened at the turn of the story, but not of the visitor.  There is a gentle trust, even excitement at being included as part of it, and they cling to Rua as he climbs a nearby rock.  Sitting on his lap to watch his hands as he describes the palace of Ra Vana, a twisting thing that gnawed at the sky and deadly thorns to dissuade escape—

A chime sounds in the city, signifying the coming night and awaiting evening meal.  The disappointment of the crowd is palpable.  An exhale, little voices asking to stay longer, glances between the adults.  Bending down to tell the children to ask if Rua will come tomorrow and finish the story. 

The children crowd Rua the moment he slides off the rock.  It is only then that he realizes Lotor is watching nearby.  His cheeks taking on a pink color as he looks between the prince and little crowd.  “Well, um… we aren’t leaving until later tomorrow, right?”

It is then Lotor’s turn to be surrounded.  Little hands tugging as his armor, expectant faces.  He crouches among them, leaning forward until he is at their level.  Looking to each one as his smile grows.  “Of course we have to come back tomorrow.  We can’t leave the story there.  Even I don’t know how it ends!  How about right after first meal?”

The children are placated then and easily return to their parents.  Rua is at his side as Lotor stands upright.  There is an expression there that Lotor finds hard to read.  But it softens as the two catch each other’s gaze.  They turn back to the ship, Rua keeping pace at his left hand. 

Lotor keeps the questions buzzing within him and allows Rua to part when they reach his personal quarters. 

~*~*~

Which, of course, means Lotor is unable to find his own rest. 

When his head is too busy he puts his hands to work.  Lately that has entailed reconstructing a personal fighter more suitable to his tastes.  The traditional Galra fighter, while effective, leaves much to be desired.  Although Lotor knows he is his own foil.  Forever finding that finishing one experiment or testing one design leads to a dozen more he wishes to try.  And then considering Rua’s arrival, with the dedicated maintenance of the cruiser and elegance of his fighter.

He can feel it, just beyond his reach.  So much to learn and understand.  Is the designs Rua creates a product of his imagination, or a reflection of what he’s seen in his childhood?  A child of not one but two people unknown to the empire.  Entire histories, sciences, cultures that seemingly haven’t been touched by the empire’s spread. To hear it all, learn it all, is a temptation nearly far too great for even him. 

And the tale Rua had been telling is merely a glimpse of it.  Lotor cannot even begin to determine where the tale lies.  Is it part of a mythology?  Or a simple tale, the events that inspired it long ago, but echoing with lesson and truth.  Or could it even be part of the history of his people?

But indeed, Lotor thinks ruefully to himself, how does one even approach asking such a thing?

Except of course when growingly familiar soft footsteps make their way into the hanger.

Rua is dressed for sleep, just a flight suit in the event he was suddenly needed in the middle of the sleep cycle.  A blanket is thrown over his shoulders, the edges crossed in front of his chest and tucked behind his back, leaving his arms free.  Most likely in case he found rest somewhere else on the cruiser besides his room; Lotor has done much of the same.  He notes that the red hair is thicker, wilder, than before.  Curling by Rua’s cheeks and spilling over his shoulders.  A victim of tossing and turning. 

Lotor acknowledges him with a nod before turning back to the fighter.  Rua had probably come with his own intentions, even if it was merely wandering to sooth his own restlessness.  And he will respect that.  Yet the young man seems to take it as an invitation, padding over to stand near the prince’s elbow.  Watching his hands at work, taking in the pieces on the workbench and those still in the fighter. 

A tool is held out for him before Lotor can even fully turn to look for it.  The arrival becomes an amiable companionship.  The quiet only broken by the occasional soft request or metal scrapping against metal. 

“Might I… ask a question?  To the tale you were telling.”  Lotor leaves it open-ended enough that Ruari can easily refuse.  The engineer had ended up sitting on the fighter, tray of the most needed tools resting on his lap.  He continues at Rua’s affirmative hum.  “The circle that was drawn to protect the princess so long as she stays inside it.  It would imply that she should have been cautious of anyone that approached her, yet she still left.  Why?”

“Well,” Rua tilted his head as he thought a moment.  “It’s actually several different things.  Part of it is a testament to her character; the part I told is just one event of many in her life.  A willingness to help despite not knowing the true intentions and nature of the other party speaks vey highly of her, and speaks lowly of any who would trick or take advantage of it.” 

Rua leaned back, bracing one arm against the ship while he stretched his legs.  “The rest relates to the traditions of my ren’s people regarding hospitality.  For them, you must offer at least three things to a guest, regardless of who they are:  a place to sit, refreshments, and kind words.”

“And that’s what she was trying to do, but Ra Vana tricked her.” The tools are now forgotten, idly returned the workbench.  Curiosity, excitement, eagerness to hear more all drive the prince now.  “Is there a reason hospitality is held in that way?”

“I’m not exactly sure, but you can think of it like an exchange.  If you offered me hospitality in your home, then I would return it to you should you ever arrive at my home.”  Rua gestured to Lotor, then himself.  “I’ve also noticed there is also the idea that you may never know who it is that you are aiding.  Who they are at that moment, or who they might become in the future.  The kindness of today turning away the sword of tomorrow.  Many of the cultures mother told me about hold hospitality as sacred, and abusing or breaking it is extremely taboo.” 

“So, in a way, thinking of the consequences of one’s actions.  And yet at the same time, doing it regardless of the ifs and maybes.  A revelation to one’s character.” 

“Exactly!”  Rua braced his feet so he would not slide off and leaned closer to Lotor, voice growing in excitement.  “There is a hero, Cú Chulainn, among my mother’s people.  He refuses to break hospitality even though he _knows_ that by receiving it will lead to his death and—Oh.”

“Oh?”  The disappointment is palpable.  Hard to contain.  He has done something wrong in asking it of Rua.

“Well, you asked of Princess Si’ita, and I should really start with her tale, from the beginning.”  A thought seems to come to Rua and he looks down at the fighter.  “Unless I’m interrupting?”

“Not at all.  I imagine you are as eager to tell it as I am to hear it.”  A small smile crosses the prince’s face as he climbs up to sit next to the engineer. 

And that is how it all begins between the two of them.    


End file.
